Foundations of a Fugitive
by Osthrys
Summary: There's a dark mystery to Severus Snape going deeper than the surface, into the very heart of himself and his ancestors, and of Harry Potter as he struggles with independence, responsibility, and the macabre knowledge of the supernatural.SSHP,AU,Vamp!Sev
1. You, Me, and the Devil Make Three

**AN: **Here's the shiny new, revamped chapter one! I guess I'll post them here after all...But you can STILL read them more regularly, in case I don't update here, on my LJ ( osthrys ).

**Title:** Foundations of a Fugitive  
**Author:** Osthrys  
**Chapter:** 1/?  
**Rating: R for now for graphic scenes, violence, etc. Rating may go up _much_ later in the story.  
Genre:** Romance, mystery, a wee dusting of macabre, adventure, agnstangstangstomgtheangst, fantasy-ish, and some mild sarcasm and humour...oh and...snapemightbea**vampire**, shush.  
**Pairing: **Snarry, or, for those not in the know, Severus/Harry.  
**Summary:** When there's something strange, in your nei--No, wait, that's not it... Well, maybe a little bit. There is a dark mystery surrounding Severus Snape, something that goes deeper than the surface, and into the very heart of not only himself and his ancestors, but of Harry Potter as he struggles with independence, responsibility, and the macabre knowledge of the supernatural.

**Chapter One: You, Me, and the Devil Make Three**

---

Harry Potter lie forlornly on his bed in Privet Drive, staring absentmindedly out the window as the rain came crashing down. It had been one of those days... One of those _years_ really. Nothing ever seems to go according to plan.

It was the death of Sirius that started it, as he began his descent, blindly choosing to grieve alone, and paying no heed to the world around him until it was literally forced into his awareness. A brokenhearted Remus Lupin and anxious Mad Eye Moody had 'secretly' arrived at Privet Drive near the end of August, and told him to pack his things; they were going to Hogwarts early. This resulted in an exploded stove, a broken blender, and three terrified Dursleys hiding in the living room.

The rest of the year had been spent in the looming shadow of a building threat. After the failed attack on the Ministry of Magic, and several incarcerated Death Eaters, little was heard of Voldemort and his whereabouts. The summer had been quiet, too quiet, and like the fools they were, people began to be accustomed to the lull.

Then, without warning, news came of attacks on the coastline; burned towns and villages, all Muggle. This continued, gaining a swiftness to the attacks so that soon the coast was left in near ruins. It wasn't just Britain either. Surrounding countries were sending reports in like reports, and panic was beginning to set in. People moved inland, settled where they thought they'd be safe.

This did not hinder Him, and slowly, he began to work inwards, striking more major towns and cities. But always, at the very brink of destruction, he pulled back, leaving the landmark cities of Europe in a state of devastation, making a mockery of their defence systems. He didn't want to kill them, he wanted to _play_, to humiliate them. He left no sign of himself other then the Dark Mark, turning the sky a lurid green above the bodies of the fallen. His growing army of Death Eaters and revellers went through civilization like ghosts on the wind, brandishing their wands like swords, and their laughter like shields.

And still no sign of the Dark Lord's whereabouts.

The Ministry was frantic. Aurors were ready at all times, though all they could do was assist in the clean up and attend the wounded. The Muggle Prime Minister was tied in a knot, unsure of what to tell his people. In the end, the simple-minded man turned to blame the only people left: his comrades. Muggles were left dead, or in hospitals, with no hope of ever returning home, and everyone was angry with the government for keeping any evidence of the perpetrator under wraps. People who survived the incidents seemed to all have a rather fuzzy recollection of what really happened, details becoming obscured, and twisted. Having _Obliviate_ cast on you by a specially trained Auror seems to have that affect on people.

As the Muggle world grew more desperate, rumours ran amok across the globe, and countries turned against each other, old wounds opening once more.

Then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped.

Since the beginning of last March, Death Eater attacks became few and far between, mere remnant shadows of the horror visited upon Europe. The Order was growing agitated, knowing Voldemort was busy, but with what? It was inconceivable to imagine a retreat just when it seemed the Dark Lord was gaining such an advantage. So what had him so...preoccupied?

The most confusing thing, however, was that since His apparent vanishing act, neither Severus Snape nor (surprisingly) Lucius Malfoy had been summoned. Dumbledore was unsure as to whether this meant he was leading up to something, or Severus' spy work had been discovered. However, Harry assumed if that was the case, Snape would have been dead already.

Which brings us back to the time being, which is July 16th, the summer after Harry's sixth year, and a particularly humid, rainy evening. Harry sighed moodily and swung his legs over the side of the bed, realizing that all attempts at falling asleep were rapidly becoming hopeless. Gathering up a quill, ink well, and several sheets of parchment he sat down at his desk, carefully nudging aside random potions ingredients, and Hedwig's cage, much to her chagrin. The snowy owl cracked an eye and gave a soft hoot before turning around again and tucking her head to her chest.

He smiled at her and dabbed the tip of the quill into the black ink, setting the slightly cracked tip to parchment.

_Dear Ron and Hermione,_

_I know it's only a couple weeks into the summer vacation, but I miss you both already! I hate not knowing what's going on, though it always seem that's the way with me, huh? Neither of you have owled me much this summer, and I hope to God this doesn't turn out like the last._

_My birthday is coming up soon, I hope you didn't forget. Well, I can understand if Ron did. Anyways, I can't wait until I'm 17! I'm hoping to give Dudley a bit of a 'shock', if you know what I mean. Can you two please talk to Remus, and see if he can convince Dumbledore to at least let me spend my birthday with my friends?_

_Miss you guys,_

_HP_

Harry sighed and folded the impromptu letter, tying it closed with a thin piece of twine. He looked at the snoozing Hedwig, knowing she would be up in a little while for her nightly hunt, and set the letter aside, deciding not to wake her. He looked forlornly at the blank sheet of parchment before him, and chewed his bottom lip in thought. Dipping the quill in the well once more, he hesitated a moment, before setting himself to work.

"Well, here goes."

---

Rain pounded heavily outside of the Manor, causing water to collect in shallow pools where the earth was soft and dipped down. The fresh moisture caused the dry, humid weather of early August to turn muggy, dowsing the land in a thick blanket of fog.

But such frivolous things as the changing weather went uncatalouged by the lonely occupant of such a grand house, who presently sat content before a vast tapestry of lush black and gold embroidered velvet. With legs crossed idly at the ankles before him, a hand rubbed his temple as the other bore a thick book resting in his lap.

A high window touched the stone walls only a few feet to his side, and as a sharp flash of heat lightning lit up the unruly lawn, it cast large dancing shadows of himself seated in the wing backed chair. His dark eyes flicked to the candles before him, then to his own shadow on the wall, twisting in time to the thunder. Suddenly, it made the grand library feel so much smaller, and he so much more alone.

Rising from his chair, he pulled closed the drapes, and set the book back on the table. Blowing out the candles, he walked the many aisles of books, until he came to the large oak doors that marked the Library with serpent head handles. As he left the room, he glanced up to the ceiling above him, knowing that on the third floor his bedroom rested above the books he loved so much.

His solace.

He sighed and turned around, heading towards the spiral staircase down the main hallway. As he walked past the many candles, their flames spitted out, and soon the windowless hall behind him plunged into darkness, leaving no room for shadows.

Reluctantly, he placed his pale hand upon the railing of the stairwell, and began his ascent. Even in these hot days of summer, he felt cold and discarded; unloved and forgotten, like a child's used toy.

It would be another long, sleepless night for Severus Snape.

---

_Crimson eyes opened to slits as a long fingered hand gently stroked the bent head of a giant snake. It lifted its head and flicked its tongue against that hand, in some crude form of affection. A low hissing sound came from the thin man with the Devil's eyes, and the snake turned away, dragging it's thick belly against the worn green carpet towards the fireplace. His hand rested in the air a moment longer, before taking a thin quill and ghosting his fingers across the soft branches of feather. _

_Twisting his wrist so the quill could catch the light of the fire, he grinned, his teeth long and jagged, as the feather shone brilliant shades of gold and scarlet._

_It belonged to a Phoenix._

_The eyes lifted, and the man turned to face forward in his chair, staring directly at the boy with green eyes who wasn't there. The grin widened._

"_Welcome home."_

Harry awoke from his dream with a start, his eyes flashing open, only to be shut again hastily as they were assaulted by the harsh midday sun. Shielding his face with his hand, he looked out the window to see cars passing by on the street below. He shifted awkwardly, his whole body stiff from sleeping in the desk chair all night. Hedwig was not in her cage, and the letter was gone. He smiled, and shifted around again, trying to work out his body's many kinks. Yawning, he glanced down at the parchment lying off to the side on his desk. He sighed and traced the lines of dried ink with his fingers, and shook his head. Getting up, he brushed down his pyjamas, and unlocked his bedroom door, going down to the kitchen to start the Dursley's breakfast.

Lying on his desk, where he left it, was a drawing. The thick and thin, curving lines of ink jutted out, connected together, and met at sharp angles and soft curves, to form the shape of a lone figure standing still, holding a wand in one hand. His eyes were heavy lidded, hair long and black, as well as his robes, and his face was downcast, set in an expression of abject misery.

Harry didn't know why he had drawn him, didn't even know how he pulled it off, but here it was, sitting innocently on his desk, much to the bafflement of it's creator, and, later, it's subject:

Severus Snape.


	2. Boys Don't Cry

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or any of the publishing rights here. The all belong to Raincoast books and JK Rowling. However, I do own the plot, and that, in itself, is mine.

**A/N:** I figured i'd post all three chapters at the same time, as they have all already been updated at is something I'd like to make notice of regarding the last chapter:

Some of you may be wondering about the odd sentence that occurred during Harry's dream of Voldemort (_The eyes lifted, and the man turned to face forward in his chair, staring directly at the boy with green eyes who wasn't there.) _I understand that this may have caused some confusion, as I was not entirely clear. What is meant by that sentence, is that Harry was not _actually_ there with Voldemort (in the physical sense), but Voldemort could still sense him, and knew exactly where he was. I hope that cleared some things up.

Please Review.

**Chapter Two: Boys Don't Cry**

Severus ran a lean hand along the cracked surface of an old wooden chair. He stood tiredly in the kitchen of Twelve Grimmauld Place, scrutinizing the poor state in which the Wolf had let it reach. He cast his obsidian gaze around the room, taking in the crooked objects, and dusty coverings. The room hadn't seen much use as of late. All of the Order meetings had been moved to the sitting room, and the only person living in the grim old house, was but the Wolf himself.

He sighed heavily and folded his arms across his chest, glaring half-heartedly at the door, from which he could hear the muffled voices of Dumbledore and the Wolf. He had originally been called here by Dumbledore to discuss something with him and the Wolf, but the stupid animal had dragged him aside, asking for a 'private conference, if you will'. Something to do with a bloody letter. From Potter, no doubt. Did that boy ever stop whining?

He glanced up and loosened his arms slightly as he heard rustling and shifting feet from behind the door. He watched as the doorknob turned and quickly schooled his face into his usual mask of neutrality as he watched a downcast looking Remus Lupin trudge into the room. Not that he ever looked any different these days. Dumbledore closely followed, shutting the door after him, and wearily rubbing his eyes.

"Now that you two have quite finished your nice little 'chat', may I please be blessed with the knowledge as to why you have called me here?" He snapped. Not that it really mattered. It was a far cry from the haunting, empty space of the Snape Manor, and as much as he disliked the Wolf, he had to admit it was nice to see another breathing creature for a while.

Remus glared at him then shook his head, pulling a chair out and sitting down. Dumbledore took the chair at the head of the table, and gestured for Severus to sit down beside him. He simply cast the man a dark look, and tightened his arms across his chest. 'I'll be damned if I'm going to sit on that dust covered chair in my good robes.' He thought.

"There is something I need to ask of you both," Dumbledore began, "and I figured it would be best if we kept this from the whole Order for the time being."

Remus and Severus shared a look.

Dumbledore rubbed his snowy beard and sighed. "As you know, Voldemort has already achieved in gaining Fenrir Greyback to his list of supporters, and is easily managing to acquire more werewolves for his side. You both know as well as I do, that if Voldemort were to plan an attack on the night of the full moon, with that many werewolves at his command, the effect would be devastating. In light of this, it is with a heavy heart that I must ask something very trying of you, Remus."

Severus watched in sick delight as the Wolf sucked in a quick breath, his expression going pale. "Albus, please, you don't under-"

The elder man raised a hand to stop him. Remus' mouth shut tight, his eyes wide. "I know this is hard for you Remus, but you must. For the good of the Order, and the world, you must. I need you to infiltrate a werewolf clan here in London. They call themselves the, 'Waybearers'. I will need you to assume an alias, and take as long as you need to sway them to our side. Use whatever methods you need to. The idea, is that once they have been convinced, then you, as well as the others of this clan, can spread out across London, achieving the same goal, and then on." He gave a slight smile, "It will be all cause and effect from here on out."

Remus stared. "How can you sound so confident? This plan isn't exactly curse-proof. There are so many ways I could fail…"

"And so many more ways you could achieve." Dumbledore sighed. "I know this may seemed far-fetched, and it would take a lot of work, but it truly is our only chance. I deem that they would better listen to you, then to me."

Remus rubbed his eyes. Severus stared at the two, wondering where he came to play in this. "But Albus, how do you expect me to persuade them?"

Dumbledore glanced cautiously at Severus, who narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "You can promise them continuous supplies of the Wolfsbane draught, if the are to take our side."

Remus glared. "I hope this works."

"So do I."

Severus frowned, becoming impatient. "And what of me, Headmaster? Surely I was not brought her just to hear you dithering at the Wolf."

"You will not be too happy about what I have to say either."

Severus took a menacing step forward. "You can't be serious…?" He was pretty sure he already knew what Dumbledore wanted, judging by the task set to the Wolf.

Dumbledore nodded.

Severus gritted his teeth to keep from shouting at the old man. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second. 'I really need a drink', he thought. "They'll never listen to me, Dumbledore. There may not be near as many of us as there are werewolves, but they will most likely be harder to persuade. You know the benefits promised to them from the Dark Lord."

"I do." Dumbledore nodded again, pursing his lips. "But you must try. We cannot let him sway them all. I am sure not all their families made pacts with Slytherin of old. Yours did not."

Severus glared, feeling his temper rising to the surface. "This will never work." He turned and walked towards the door. As he placed his hand on the knob and wrenched it open, he turned back. "Mark my words, you will have swords in your gut before claws on your flesh. They will not take the Dark Lord idly. To them, you are nothing but a weak fool. What is a man without wings?"

He stepped out into the hall, and Dumbledore called from behind him, "You do not have a choice, Severus."

Obsidian eyes turned to flame.

жжж

Harry ran a tanned finger along the soft plumage of Hedwig's underbelly. She gave a soft cry and nipped at his finger, rubbing her head along his hand. It had been roughly two weeks since Hedwig had left with his letter, and a week and half since she had returned, with no return letter grasped in her claws.

Tomorrow would be his birthday. Seventeen. Seventeen and completely alone. Well, except for the Dursleys, and the most they ever did to acknowledge his birthday was to tell him he was old enough now to cook their meals.

Why couldn't they have even sent him a letter saying that he couldn't come?

He sighed and moved his hand over to the drawing of Snape. He ran his fingers along the thick lines, his head propped up in his hand. He vaguely wondered if his potions professor remembered him, even if it was only in the slight moment wherein he would shudder, and recoil at the thought of having him for another year, another class.

A shiver ran down his spine, and he looked away. Standing up, he turned around, and his gaze settled idly on a picture resting on his desk. He watched as Ron and Hermione waved at him, and picture Harry smiled slightly, in a vain attempt to reassure whoever was taking the photo that he did not mind being squashed to the side. The Third Wheel.

Oh, but he did.

He fucking _hated_ it.

They had each other. They were loved for who they were, not for who they were supposed to be. They had everything Harry had ever wanted. To be loved. Sure, he had people who loved him now, and always would, despite him being The-Boy-Who-Lived, but he always knew it wasn't enough. He had always wanted what Ron and Hermione had together; someone to stand by you through thick and thin, someone to just _hold_ you, and listen to you rant, and scream, and cry. He wanted someone for his _own_. He didn't care how selfish that sounded; it's just how he felt.

However, he knew, deep down, that that could never happen. Not to him. Too many people only wanted him for his fame, and he knew this. How could he know if someone truly wanted him, for him alone?

Besides, it didn't quite help his situation that he was _gay_, now did it?

Harry stared at the picture, beginning to shake. Hot, angry tears rolled down his cheeks, and he shook his head, falling back onto his bed, and drawing his knees tight up to his chest. He began rocking back and forth, trying his best to hold back his dry sobs, feeling disgusted with himself for showing such a sign of weakness.

Harsh pictures of his Uncle Vernon when he was younger filtered into his mind, and he roughly slapped himself across his cheek, shaking his head violently, and muttering through gritted teeth.

"Boys…Don't…Cry…" He sucked in a deep breath, "Only…Freaks…Cry…" He collapsed into his pillow and cried aloud, childishly pounding his fist on the mattress, but not caring, glad that the Dursley's were out to dinner. He twisted the rough sheet between his fingers, and screamed into the pillow, his throat raw.

"FREAK!"

жжж

Remus Lupin ran a hand tiredly over his face, as he reread the letter from Harry that Ron had sent him, along with his own pleading letter. He sighed and dropped it on his desk, placing his face in his hands, shaking his head in disdain.

He knew it would be fruitless to ask such a thing of Dumbledore, but he knew he had to, for Harry's sake. His face twisted bitterly. Thanks to Dumbledore, he wouldn't be there to see Harry, but as long as he was happy, that's all that mattered to Remus.

However, now, even that was ruined. How could the man be so ignorant? Couldn't he see how Harry was treated at the Dursleys? His physical state upon return to Hogwarts every year was enough of a clue. He took a deep breath and lifted his head tiredly. His eyes settled on Snape, as he walked by the opened door of his study, hands clasped behind his back, and head turned down in thought.

Remus stared at the spot he had been, long after he was gone, his mind already forming an idea. He smiled mischievously, and grasped the letter again, rising from his chair, making his way to the sitting room, where he knew Dumbledore would most likely be, poring over charts from the meeting that night.

He wasn't a Marauder for nothing.

жжж

Severus was walking along the hall, heading for the sitting room, when he was suddenly shoved aside, and flung against the opposite wall. He stared in shock as the Wolf stormed past him, a wild look in his eyes.

Angered, Severus strode forward, "Just what do you think you're—"

He was rudely cut off when the door to the sitting room was slammed hard in his face. He could just hear the Wolf's excited blabbering, and could imagine the damned twinkle he knew to be in Dumbledore's eyes.

This couldn't be good.

**A/N: **Thanks for reading, and please review. There's a cookie waiting for anyone who can figure out what it is that Remus is planning. winks. XoXo Crowley.


	3. Life Becoming a Landslide

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or any of the publishing rights here. The all belong to Raincoast books and JK Rowling. However, I do own the plot, and that, in itself, is mine.

**A/N:** I will do personal thank you's to all who review in the next chapter. Thanks very much.

**NOTE: **I am looking for a **beta**; so if anyone is up to the job, please e-mail me(my address is in my profile).Thanks!

**Chapter Three: Life Becoming a Landslide**

Severus waited outside the door for a minute or two, trying in vain to catch the conversation going on inside. After establishing that, in fact, he could not hear it at all, he sighed and turned around, meaning to go back up to his temporary room However, as he set one foot before the other, a stern voice rang out from behind the door he had previously been standing before.

"Severus, I know you are there. Come in, I have matters I wish to discuss with you."

Severus cringed at the sound of Dumbledore, and turned back around, hesitantly twisting open the now unlocked door, and stepped inside. The Wolf glanced at him, a slight flush gracing his cheeks, and Severus frowned.

Dumbledore waved his hand towards an armchair by the fire next to his. Reluctantly, he walked over, and gingerly sat down on the end of the overstuffed cushion. The old school master laced his finger together on his lap, and gave a bit of a tired smile.

"What I am going to ask of you Severus, I know you will not like, but you must know that I believe it to be extremely necessary." He drew in a deep breath, and Severus froze, his eyebrows knitted together in doubt. The Wolf cringed and turned away, plunking himself down exhaustedly on the couch, and vehemently refusing to look at Severus.

"I am afraid to tell you that Mr. Potter will be assigned to your care for the next two weeks, at your manor home."

Snape blinked, his face continuously developing into a rather nasty shade of red, his fists clenched. He opened his mouth in a half-snarl, making to speak, but the Wolf cut him off.

"Severus, I'm sorry. I was the one who thought of this idea, and I know that it doesn't abide well with you, judging by Harry and yours relationship. But you must understand…This is what's best for Harry, and the rest of us."

Severus' eyebrows shot up, and he sneered, glaring at the Wolf. "And what of his muggle relatives? Mr. Potter's _exact_ instructions were that he must stay with them for protection, were they not? I am afraid to tell you, but I am, in fact, _not_ Potter's Aunt! Or his Nanny, for that matter. I do not see why he should have to come and live with me…"

Dumbledore sighed, seeming very tired all of a sudden, and turned pleadingly to Remus, who nodded in response. "Well…" The Wolf looked uncertainly at Severus, and unconsciously drew Harry's letter from his pocket, fingering it in slight guilt. "Harry sent a letter, asking if he could come here for his birthday, so he could spend it with his friends. I knew Albus would disagree to him coming here, as he believes it not to be safe enough." Albus shook his head at that, but The Wolf never noticed. "I didn't know what to do, but…" Here he had the dignity to blush, and he sighed. "He'd be safe with you."

Severus looked at the Wolf as though he had suddenly sprouted feathers, and stood up abruptly. "You've got to be kidding! How could he possibly be safe with _me-_"

"The wards surrounding your manor home are even stronger than the ones at Hogwarts, you know that. And you yourself are definitely…equipped…to protect the boy."

"Yes, Albus, I know all this, but you must see reason!" The Potions Master held out his hands in exasperation. "You know very well that Voldemort suspects where my true loyalties lie, and with me having not been summoned for such an extended period of time, it could only indicate the worst. Besides, after I begin to supposedly 'sway' my kind to our side, it will have been proven considerably! It's a damned fact that most will deny, and I'll be lucky if I can get away from the ones who are truly loyal to the Dark Lord without them bleeding me dry! How am I supposed to protect him like this!" His teeth were bared, and the deep obsidian of his eyes glinted red in frustration. His knuckles were aching, and he needed to remind himself to stay in check.

Dumbledore stood up as he saw Severus begin to lose his control. He raised both hands in an attempt to calm him. "Severus, relax. If Voldemort were going to kill you, he would have done so by now. Tell me though; are you the only one of his inner ring that has not been called? No, you are not. The Dark Lord will not be able to sense Harry being there, thanks to the ancient wards surrounding your family home. It would most likely be the _last_ place he would think of to look for him, and even if he did land an attack, I am sure you would be able to find some sort of unknown room in that labyrinth to hide Mr. Potter in, would you not?"

Severus fell back down into the armchair, his arms splayed across the sides, his face a mask of dismay. He was losing this battle, and he knew it. Tilting his head back, he closed his eyes and took the plunge.

"When will I have to go fetch him?"

жжж

By the time Harry had stopped crying, his eyes were red and swollen, beginning to itch, and his arm was stiff from having been held underneath the pillow for so long. His throat was very sore, and raw. Sniffling a slight bit, he straightened up and scratched at his eyelids, before swinging of the bed and heading for his wardrobe. He stripped down to just his boxers, then reached in and pulled out a pair of dark gray flannel pyjama pants. Slipping them on, he glared at the waistband that hung low on his hips, even after being tightened as far as it could go. He tried to walk, but stumbled on the too long legs, ending up face first on the floor.

He moaned in pain, and tried to right himself again. "Why can't Dudley get any thinner?" He spoke to the empty room, before standing up, and heading down the stairs, holding his pant-legs up. Entering the kitchen, he opened up one of the many drawers, and fished around before pulling out a pair of scissors. He sat down on a kitchen chair, and began hacking away at his left pant leg.

Smiling, he picked up the long strip of cloth, and tested the new length, before proceeding to cut off the other leg. He stood, and rubbed his arms, hugging his bare torso, realizing just how cold it was down there. He shivered, but proceeded to the fridge, in hopes of finding something to eat before the Dursley's arrived home. However, as he reached for the handle, a noise from outside made him freeze and whisk around, eyes wide.

It sounded almost like a car backfiring…right in front of the back door.

"Oh shit." Was all he could say before someone rapped against the back door. He stood frozen to the spot, listening as three hard knocks sounded out, before a harsh sigh sounded. A deep voice muttered something, and he heard the lock click, the chain slipping out of the hole on it's own.

Harry smiled, his first thought was that it must be Moody, here to take him to Grimmauld place, but as the door banged open, he stumbled back in shock. Obsidian eyes looked on at him in aggravation.

"P-Professor Snape!"

'_No Potter, the Pope'. _"Get your things, you're coming with me."

Harry stared at him. "B-but…I…Where's Remus!"

Snape raised a cynical eyebrow. "I imagine he is at Headquarters, most likely reading a book, or arguing with McGonnagal again. Now get packed." He ran his eyes up and down the nearly-seventeen-year-old. "And perhaps some decent clothing."

Harry blushed profusely, and tried in vain to cover his bare chest with his arms, suddenly feeling very self-conscious under the scrutinizing stare of his Potions Master. Frowning slightly, he backed up a few steps. "Uh…O-okay then. Right."

Severus sighed and rolled his eyes, walking past Harry into the living room. He glanced at the staircase, and headed towards it. "Your room is upstairs, I presume?"

Harry nodded, and then shook his head to himself, hurrying to catch up with the Professor's long strides as he headed up the stairs.

Sidling past Severus on the landing, he headed into his room first and dragged his trunk out from underneath his bed. Dumping it on his bed, he unlatched it, and peered inside. Most of his school stuff was already in there, having not been taken out at all since the summer began. He glanced nervously at Snape, who was standing stiffly by the doorway, looking at him strangely. He swallowed and looked at his wardrobe, then his nightstand.

"There isn't much else for me to pack in there, just some homework, a couple books, and things. It wont take me long." He glanced back at the doorway, past Snape. "Excuse me, I need to get some stuff from the bathroom." He walked past the taller man, ignoring the steady glare sent his way, and entered the bathroom down the hall.

Severus slowly walked into the room, and took in his surroundings. His eyes settled on the window frame, and his eyes widened in unabashed shock as he saw areas where metal bars were obviously present at one time. Looking down, he noticed a cat-flap near the bottom of the door. He didn't have to guess what it was used for. He felt a deep swelling of anger spoon in the pit of his stomach when he saw the words 'FUCKING FREAK' etched on the wooden door, and a stuck on notepad, carrying the details for about a months worth of chores.

Dumbledore let the child leave with these people? Fuck. Again, his knuckles began to ache, and he needed to take deep, calming breaths in order to calm himself down. Stupid fucking meddling muggles.

Shaking his head, he turned, then immediately froze. Taking a step closer to the desk, he gasped, staring in awe and bewilderment at the drawing lying there innocently. His thoughts were running a mile a minute, as he reached out and traced his hand along the black ink image.

'_He drew me? Potter drew a picture of me…Why? What on earth was the brat thinking?'_ He scrunched up is nose, and quickly drew back, moving to stand outside the room as he heard the bathroom door opening again.

Harry walked out, carrying a plastic bag with his toiletries, and gave a hesitant smile at the dark man, who simply gave him a very odd, calculating look. Shrinking away a little, he mentally cursed himself for being such a coward, but walked quickly past him into his room. After packing up everything, he locked Hedwig in her cage (she gave an aggravated hoot at this and ruffled her feathers at him in annoyance), before hastily folding his drawing of Snape, and shoving it into his trunk, a deep blush tinting his cheeks.

He had laid out a pair of faded jeans, and a too large red shirt on his bed. Hauling his luggage into the hall, he looked at the man, his cheeks still slightly pink. "Umm…I'm just going to get dressed now, I guess."

Severus rolled his eyes at him. "I'll be in the back yard." He drew his wand and levitated the trunk and cage, walking back down the steps.

Harry closed his bedroom door, and sunk down against it.

"What am I going to do?" He moaned.

жжж

Albus Dumbledore smiled across at Minerva McGonnagal, his grin reaching to the sides of his face. He looked just like the cat that got the canary.

Minerva glared at him heftily, but he just continued to grin cheekily, his hand drumming against the desk. "Albus, they are going to rip each other to pieces, and I would much rather if my student and colleague returned next year fully in tact."

Albus laughed at her loftily, and leaned forward, his bushy eyebrows raised high on his head. One of the objects on his desk began to emit a low whirring sound. Ignoring her comment, he continued airily, as though he was merely thinking out loud, and had forgotten that Minerva was even there at all. "I do believe that this is just the chance I have been looking for. I can play on this perfectly, and kill two birds with one stone."

Minerva sighed and laid her hand across his. "This isn't going to work. They hate each other."

Albus shook his head at her, but his smile fading a little. "They both deserve happiness, you know this. I believe that they will be able to find it in each other." He chuckled slightly. "Even if it takes a bit of persuasion."

"But Albus, Severus…he's…well…" She looked at him exasperated. "He could be dangerous to Harry! What if he loses control of himself, and does something rash?" Her face darkened considerably. "I will not see Harry Potter either taken, or dead by his hand, for as long as I live."

He sighed at her, as though she was but a child who simply didn't understand. "I have a theory Minerva, that I have been curious over for some time." He grinned hugely. "Haven't you ever wondered why Severus is always so sour?"

This time, it was her turn to laugh. "I would say that that's obvious. I mean, besides the fact that he had a horrible childhood, suffers ridicule because of what he is, and carries the guilt of the Potter's death as well as dealing with Voldemort…Well…You know how they can get if they don't find their mate."

Albus nodded slowly. "Exactly."

She looked at him in confusion for a second, before her eyes became wide. "Albus, _no_! That will never happen, and you know it! Are you daft? They hate each other! It's one thing to expect them to live with each other for a couple of weeks, but something else entirely to even suggest that…they…" She trailed off, flabbergasted. Albus just continued to smile, and gazed at his fingernails distractedly.

"Love is very strange, isn't Minerva? Comes from _very_ odd places. I mean, just look at Hagrid. You never would have thought that it was possible!" He frowned. "Actually, I must say that I am not entirely sure how it _was_ possible…"

"_Albus_!" She threw her hands up into the air. "Severus is twenty years Harry's senior! Besides, he is his teacher, and that is against the law!"

"That never stopped us, now did it?"

She sighed. '_This will never work…_'

**A/N: **Thanks for reading, and please review. Also, again, anyone want to be my beta?XoXo, Crowley.

**PS: **Any ideas for how you guys want things to go in the plot? I'm open to suggestions! Thanks!


	4. Wings of Fate

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or any of the publishing rights here. The all belong to Raincoast books and J.K Rowling. However, I do own the plot, and that, in itself, is mine.

**Chapter Four: Wings of Fate**

It felt as though the world was swallowing him whole. His head felt as though a thousand tiny fists were pounding on his temples, and all that he was truly sure of were the strong arms around his midriff, and the suitcase clutched tightly in his hand.

Then, as soon as it started, it stopped, and he swayed dangerously on his feet, his stomach coming up to meet his throat. Severus glared at the boy in his arms, holding him a moment longer to make sure that he was steady, before abruptly releasing him. He began to walk away, and Harry gathered his things quickly, making to chase after his Professor.

However, as he turned around, he stopped suddenly in his tracks. His skin prickled as he took in his surroundings, not noticing as Severus turned around angrily.

They were standing inside a dense forest, the heavy tree canopy blocking out all stars. About ten feet behind him, there was a vast iron fence, which stretched out as far as Harry could see (which wasn't all that far, mind you, because it was so dark, he couldn't see much).

"Come along Potter." The Potions Master snapped, grabbing Harry's arm and startling him. The boy nodded dumbly, and followed behind him, casting nervous glances into the darkness around him. After only a few minutes, they stopped, and Harry looked up at the large manor home before him. A black, wrought iron archway marked the beginning of a large stairwell, leading up to the front door. Not a single light shone from any windows, so all that Harry could see by was the dim light of his Professor's wand.

The stone of the walls seemed old, and Harry knew that this house must have been in the Snape family for many generations. True, it was not as big as he would have guessed a pureblooded wizarding family to have, but surely no less grand, in it's own way. As they ascended the stairs, he noticed that the air grew steadily colder the closer they got, and he began to feel very much like he wanted to be back in Privet Drive. As they reached the door, he realized that there were two, human-like statues guarding the entrance. Their features were heavily weathered down, and rounded by time, but he could make out large wings coming from their backs. He shuddered, then jumped violently at the sound of a third, very scratchy voice.

"Welcome home, Master Severus, son of Tobias." It came from a brass knocker on the large door, shaped like the head of a gargoyle.

"I am not in the mood for idle chit-chat, Caedes." He grumbled, glaring vehemently at the knocker. "_Licet Pennae Fortuna rector nos ut nostri._"

The door swung open, and Harry stared at Severus, confusion etched on his face. The man cast him a glare, which clearly said 'It's none of your damn business.' With long strides, he entered the Manor, Harry following quickly behind. As soon as the boy's foot landed on the large entry rug, the door slammed shut behind him, and all the lights came on with a loud _crack!_

Harry jumped from shock, causing Snape to smirk.

Harry, wide-eyed, took in the grand foyer, wriggling his toes on the large rug beneath his feet. It was a deep red, with gold trim, and the walls were some kind of deep blue stone, or so it looked. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting sprinkles of light across the surfaces of the room. Harry smiled admiringly, surprised that _Snape_, of all people, would live in such a….well…such a _welcoming _home. As Snape opened his mouth to snap at him to close his mouth, a tall, brown-skinned woman came rushing from a door off to the far right.

As she spotted Harry, she gave a little squeal of excitement, running over and tugging his clothes, patting his hair, and asking if he needed anything. She turned to Severus, her deep chocolate eyes shining. "Is this the little boy you mentioned, Severus?" At his nod, she turned back to Harry, who stood still, shocked by the onslaught of this stranger. Snape looked bemused, and his lips were violently twitching at the sides.

"Isn't he just the cutest?" The woman laughed, and Harry blushed considerably. Her face grew serious, and wiping her hands on her apron, she ran them through her greying hair. "Are you not going to introduce me to the young Master?"

Severus sighed, and turned to the shaken teen. "This is Priyadarshini Kanthasamy; she's my housekeeper. You may address her as Madam Kantha-"

She waved her hand in irritation, and playfully slapped the taller man on the arm. He scowled, but otherwise did not react. Harry was stunned. He simply could not believe that this woman was still alive, if she spent her time teasing _Professor Snape_! "Nonsense! You may call me Priya, darling, as long as you are in this house." She winked at him suddenly. "And don't you listen to a word he says about me; I'm much more a competent cooker then he is. I changed his diapers when he was young (and let me tell you, that wasn't the best job in the world), and I know him like the back of my very own hand, and I have had that since I was a babe myself. I remember once how-"

"_Priya." _Snape ground out between clenched teeth. "Why don't you bring Mr. Potter's things up to the room we have prepared for him? I should like to show him around before he retires, so that he know his boundaries." He glared heavily at Harry by the last world, implicating that he would not accept any ifs, ands, or buts, about the rules that were going to be laid down. Harry gulped, and nodded absently.

The small woman bustled off, and Snape turned back around, leading them down a long corridor.

* * *

Harry sighed and rubbed along his face, glaring daggers at the straight back of the man before him. It had been an hour already, and he had so far seen all the rooms there were to see on the first and second floors. Rules had been laid down ("Do not, under any circumstances, go past the door at the back of the Study. That door leads to the-…well…Don't go in there, all right?"), and Harry was beginning to wonder if he would be allowed to do _anything _in this godforsaken manor.

After being shown his room (a large guest room, with it's own bathroom and walk-in closet, his bags propped against a trunk at the foot of the bed), Snape led him down the long hallway to a spiralling, metal lattice-worked staircase, leading up to a large black door. It had a plain, smooth surface, but the ordinary-seeming handle looked to be made of pure silver.

Severus stared apprehensively at the door for a moment, before turning to face the teenaged boy. His hand gestured vaguely towards the stairs. "This is completely off limits. The passageway leads to the top floor, which holds my own bedroom, and…other things. It is heavily warded, and I will know the instant someone steps foot on the stairs." Harry made an absurd gulping sound, his eyes threatening to cross from exhaustion and confusion. "Besides, you wouldn't be able to open the door anyway, as it is charmed locked so that only the caster can reopen it, and it cannot be blasted."

His professor idly fingered his wand in his pocket, fingers convulsively flexing on the length. "If, by some miracle, you do manage to get inside, by warned; I will have to kill you."

Harry knew better than to think he was joking.

* * *

That night was extremely troubled for Harry, his dreams making it impossible for him to actually get any sleep. He knew there were a few, mostly just nonsense dragged from the dregs of his mind to torture him, but it was the last one he had, just before waking up, that stuck with him now as he lay panting in bed, the sheets tangled around his slim waist.

_He was in a garden, as best he could tell. On either side of him, there were tall, rough cut hedges, the surfaces covered in overgrown ivy vines. Grass was growing up in odd angles between the river stones beneath his feet as he walked._

_All around there were different types of bushes, flowers, and small trees. Some were muggle, some magical, and some that he was absolutely sure had watched him as he passed by. The skin along his arms was prickling, and he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck sticking up. _

_As he walked, he caught a strange sent on the air, and he felt his body and mind become immediately attracted to it. It was sweet, and alluring, filling him with an aching sort of need to find it. Coming to a fork in the path, he took a right, trailing the smell as best he could. As he continued to walk, the garden seemed to progress into heavier stages of disrepair the further he went, the high hedges now farther away from the path, with large, scraggly holes scattered throughout them. _

_The flowers he passed become more, and more magical, their colours vibrant and shocking, making weird sounds and emitting strange types of fluid as he walked past. He ignored them. As the path turned again, he passed through two large trees, forming a sort of makeshift gateway. Their bark was a deep, reddish brown, and the leaves a striking gold. He barely cast them a second glance as he passed, for before him was a large clearing, the grass smooth and clean, with small sprinklings of tiny white flowers dancing across it. _

_The area was not bordered by hedges, but rather large, stone walls, the bricks begin to crumble with age. Near the back was a fountain, no longer emitting water, but beautiful none the less. It featured a life sized figure of a naked woman, her breasts hanging heavy, while one hand rested on her swollen belly, and the other holding a small, naked babe. She wore a magnificent crown at the top of her head, wherein the middle was a hole, where the water used to pour. _

_What really drew Harry's attention were the large, powerful wings, spreading gracefully from her back, the tips reaching in to touch at her ankles. _

_He smiled and stepped farther in. The smell was much stronger here, and his smile grew as his gaze landed on a large patch of the most ethereal, and menacing flowers yet. Their petals formed a sort of rough seven-pointed star, the base colour being a deep purple, with a winding line of blue in the center. Each petal had sharp, teeth-like points along the edges, covered in some sort of odd, silver powder._

_Harry got the distinct feeling that they wanted nothing more than to eat him._

_Ignoring the strange feeling the flowers gave him, he knelt before the thick growing patch, and deeply breathed in the sweet smell. The source was in there somewhere, he knew it. Carefully, he reached his hands slowly into the mass of plants, moving to part them aside to see into the middle. They did not move, or try to attack him, so he parted them all the way, ignoring the silver powder that was starting to make his hands itch. _

_As soon as he saw what was hidden inside, the smell turned from sweet, to an acrid, burning fume. It reeked of death._

_Before him, on a spike drove into the ground, was the head of a mighty Phoenix. It's feathers were matted with it's own blood, black eyes opened in saddened horror. Harry felt bile rising into his throat, and had to desperately resist the urge to throw up._

_Tears had rolled down its cheeks, forming into soft crystals that rested gently on the dulled, wilting feathers. Not knowing why, he reached forward, as if to touch the decapitated head, but as he did so, the crystal tears shattered, and fell to the ground as dust. He felt his stomach lurch, and he drew back suddenly, standing up._

_He could not stop himself from throwing up, this time. _

_As his stomach emptied itself of its contents, he heard footsteps steadily approaching beside him. When he was done retching, he collapsed to the ground, tears rolling freely down his face as he tried not to sit in his own mess. Bleary eyes looked up, and widened in horror as he was met with two crimson ones. _

_Voldemort smiled, pointed teeth grazing his bloodless lips. Nagini was wrapped tightly around his neck and shoulders, as he stood in the gateway, framed by the golden leaves. It gave him the appearance of a tyrant king._

"_Don't deny me, little Prince." He said, voice scratchy, and cruel. "You are home."_

_Harry opened his mouth, to say what he wasn't sure, but nothing came out anyway. His throat and mouth would not form words, and in the end all he could get out was a small, scratchy whimper that made him cringe. _

_Voldemort smiled cruelly. "This is just-" _

"Harry…"

_Both wizards looked around in confusion at the soft whisper. It seemed to be in the air, almost penetrating Harry's skull with its soft, lilting tune. The Dark Lord's eyes widened as he stared at a spot behind Harry's shoulder, and the teen turned around in confusion._

_The fountain was glowing._

_It was emitting a soft, but commanding white light, just barely reaching the grass at its feet, but it seemed to draw everything in around it anyways. _

"Love you, Harry…"

_It whispered again, in a decidedly male voice. He though he knew it from somewhere, but could not quite place it. Voldemort seemed to be having the same internal struggle as he stepped forward, Nagini hissing and spitting wildly. As he made a quick move toward Harry, a sharp concussion it the air, knocking both of them backwards a bit. It could only be described as thunder without sound. _

_The figure of a tall man appeared in the growing light before the fountain, tall and lithe. The light smoothed his features so that Harry could not see any significant details, like the face, but he could tell by the shape that this man was naked. Voldemort made a strangled sound._

"_NO!" He shouted, making another step towards Harry, who tried in vain to draw back. _

_The thunder came again, and Voldemort was thrown from the clearing, the snake and himself both disappearing as they passed the large trees._

_Harry sagged in relief, only to stiffen again as he realized just exactly _why _Voldemort was thrown from him. He glanced warily at the man, and stared in awe as large, black, feathered wings spread from his back, stretching far out to either side. The figure's head gave a stout nod, black hair floating around his head, as though under water. Through the intense light, he saw two eyes open, becoming completely flame. _

_Harry gasped, a pit of warmth curling in his belly, as though spawned by the intense fire burning in the ethereal figure's eyes. Lips opened, and he heard soft words spoken, before he was pulled back into wakefulness. _

"Pennae Fortuna…"

* * *

**A/N: **Okay, thanks fro reading, and REVIEW! grins

**NOTE:** The name 'Priyadarshini Kanthasamy', is the name of our sponsor child, whom we lost to the Tsunami in Shrilanka. This fanfiction is dedicated to her, Danu rest her soul. She never stopped fighting. Blessed be.


	5. Morning At The Manor

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or any of the publishing rights here. The all belong to Raincoast books and J.K Rowling. However, I do own the plot, and that, in itself, is mine.

**A/N:** I'm not dead! This chapter was originally posted on LJ, and I forgot to post on here! Sorry 'bout that! nn Chapter six wont be too long in the coming. 3

**Chapter Five: Morning In The Manor**

Severus finished the last button on his long sleeved, crisp white shirt. Deciding that the heat was too much for his usual black, wool robe, he settled for a simple combination of shirt, trousers, and a strip of silk to tie his hair back with.

The sun had only hours ago risen, but he had lots to do, and things he needed to prepare.

As his mind drifted to the scene presented to him the night before in Potter's bedroom, he felt his temper, and curiosity, rise. His thoughts preoccupied, he entirely forgot to continue in his previous search for shoes, and he headed towards the bedroom door, intent on heading to Potter's room to wake him up.

Before his hand touched the knob, however, a House Elf popped into the room, landing just behind him.

"Missy Priya says that she will be gone until late afternoon, sir, that she is going to the market to be picking up some things for supper, sir."

Snape sighed. "Thank you Emmert."

The House Elf gave a slight bow and disappeared. Shaking his head, Severus twisted the doorknob and stepped out into a dark room, with a high ceiling. The other doors were visible on each side, and he took the one directly to his right, leading out onto the wrought-iron staircase that lead to the second floor. A hand ran atop his head, making a vain attempt at smoothing down the stray hairs there. As he reached Potter's door, his hand rested on the doorknob, hesitating. Images of what he had seen the night before snapped into the forefront of his mind.

**FLASH BACK**

_It was very late, about 2 o'clock in the morning, when Severus finally dragged himself out of his Study, and trudged up the stairs to the second floor landing. As he moved towards the wrought-iron staircase, a strange feeling developed in the pit of his stomach; a feeling of worry, and apprehension. He squeezed his eyes shut, and looked reluctantly down the hall to the room where he knew Potter should be sleeping peacefully. He cautiously entered the room, and felt himself reel in shock at the sight before him._

_Potter was obviously having a nightmare. The sheets were twisted around his ankles, revealing him in only a pair of dark green boxers, and Severus felt heat pool in his belly at the sight of the young man writhing on the bed. He sneered in distaste at himself for his body's shameful reaction and looked away. He was going to turn and leave, but something drew him closer to the boy, and he sidled up next to his bedside, reaching out a hand to touch the scar on the boy's forehead._

_He gasped, a gurgle forming in his throat. Images of what was surely Potter's dream flashed through his own mind. Voldemort. A fountain. Potter screaming. Pain, pain, pain...And then...Light._

_He drew back in shock, and stared at his hand, where it had touched Potter's infamous scar. It was smeared with blood. He stared scrutinizingly at Potter's head, and sure enough, there was a small trickle of blood coming from the scar. He looked away in discomfort, and before he did anything rash, he left the room, leaving Potter to his own devices._

_As he walked to his own staircase, he breathed in the scent of Potter's blood on his hand, and his eyes crossed. The only thoughts on his mind were that the smell of it was...welcoming, Potter looked very debauched and (admittedly) attractive, and..._

_'Why on earth was Potter dreaming about my Garden, and the Fortuna Fountain?'_

**END FLASH BACK**

His hand retreated from the knob, and he reluctantly stepped back, knowing he could not face Potter so soon, especially not in that same room. Not to mention Potter's certain state of undress...He shook his head to keep his mind from continuing that line of thought, and raised his hand to snap his fingers together loudly.

"Emmert!"

The little House Elf appeared with a _crack!_ and looked up quizzically at his Master. "Yes, Master Snape?" He wrung his little hands together.

Severus extended one long finger towards the door to Potter's room. "This is going to be Mr. Potter's room for the duration of his stay here at the Manor, and I would like you to inform the rest of the staff here of this fact, if Mistress Priya has not already done so." The Elf nodded vehemently. "Also, I would like you to please wake Mr. Potter up and show him the way to the dining hall for breakfast. I trust it is already prepared?"

Emmert nodded. "Yessir! Salsa and Lyor made it extra special for our guest, sir! I tolds them to get up earlier, sir, and they has. I tolds them to make your favourites, too sir, and they has!"

Severus smiled briefly. "Thank you, Emmert. Now, once you have Mr. Potter properly seated, please have Salsa come and ask him if there is anything he would specifically want. Priya would have my head if he didn't." He winced very slightly at the though of her angry. "I shall be having breakfast in the Library. Tell Potter that if he desperately needs me for some unfathomable reason that that is where he can find me. Show him the way, if need be."

Emmert bowed slightly. "Is that all, Master Snape, sir?"

He nodded. "Yes Emmert, thank you." He turned and left, and even without his robe billowing behind him, he still made an impressive and formidable exit.

* * *

Harry awoke slowly fro the second time that morning, his body cold from old sweat, the sheets still wrapped around his ankles. He groaned, and leaned up on his elbows, allowing his eyes to adjust to the light coming in from the opened window. He vaguely wondered what time it was, but quickly pushed that to the back of his mind as he remembered his dream from the night before.

His head was pounding, and he couldn't figure out if the dream had been real, or...But it was so different...So different from the other visions he had ever had. He was _himself_ in this one, not Voldemort, or Nagini, or anyone else. He was as much a separate part of the dream, as Voldemort was...And that fountain.

It had all felt too real to be merely a coincidence, and he felt a strong pull to find that garden, and that fountain, here in the waking world. A wave of nausea hit him as he remembered the sight and smell of the Phoenix head hidden in those flowers. He knew right away that it was the head of the Phoenix from which Voldemort obtained the quill in his other dream.

_Prince,_ he had said, _You are home._

What was that supposed to mean? He sighed and rubbed at his temples, before reaching for his glasses and placing them on his nose. He blinked a few times as the room came into focus, and he took the time to inspect his surroundings, grateful for the distraction.

The bed itself was a large four poster made from dark cherry wood, the sheets and pillowcase made of satin, the quilt and comforter of fleece. All were coloured in deep sea blue, without trim. On the far left of the room, there was a medium-sized black marble fireplace (though no fire was currently lit inside), surrounded by a wooden coffee table that matched the bed (as well as end tables and doors), and two winged back chairs that seemed to be upholstered by navy blue velvet.

Two large windows had their black velvet drapes held back by gold drawstrings, the light from the morning sun causing shadows to appear on the light gold carpet. Though completely bare of any form of decorations, besides an ornate gold holder for the fire poker and assorted paraphernalia, Harry found the room to be quite to his liking. It was a nice change from the gold and scarlet that was so prominent in Gryffindor Tower, and he found himself feeling please that it was not decked out in the Slytherin colours he had half-expected.

In fact, it was more Ravenclaw, then anything else.

He stood up and stretched his arms above his head, yawning loudly. He shivered suddenly, noticing his state of undress, and the fact that such a large manor was very cold and drafty so early in the morning, summer or not.

Noticing a cozy looking black house coat hanging off of the back of the opened bathroom door, he pulled it off the hook and wrapped it tightly around his body before entering the aforementioned bathroom, in desperate need of the loo.

The bathroom itself was, in a word, magnificent. The entire room seemed to be carved completely out of black marble, littered with veins of gold. The sink, toilet, and giant 'bath tab' that appeared to simply be a small, but deep, pool, were all made of the material, including the walls and floor. Even the frame for the large mirror above the sink was made of it!

He knew right away that Snape had given him the best guest room the manor had to offer, though he also had to wonder if these rooms hadn't belonged to a Snape family member themselves at one point, for the lavishness of it seemed to grand to be simply intended for guests.

The marble, though incredibly beautiful, was beginning to show signs of age, chips missing here and there, and some places were the sheen had been dulled. It appeared to be very old, and not used in quite some time, even though Harry knew that running indoor water in the form of sinks, baths and toilets were not invented, nor used until the turn of the 1900's, atleast in the muggle world that is.

Confused, he experimentally turned the taps of the sink, and even though they appeared to be incredibly old, the strange, marble knobs moved smoothly, and the warm water poured out without even a slight gurgle that should have sounded after such a long period of disuse.

Harry smiled wistfully. _I love the wizarding world_, he thought. After relieving himself at the toilet, he examined the pool-like tub, and found it to be nearly identical to the one found in the prefect bathroom on the fifth floor of Hogwarts. Their were about twenty different taps littered around the edge of the tub, all different shapes and sizes, though no writing or anything else to distinguish what the were. Though when he looked closer, he realized the knobs to the taps resembled things that he recognized. One was in the shape of what could only be a raspberry. Another what he was unsure of, but appeared to even have a finely carved 'hairy' appearance that made it seem like a coconut.

He stripped out of his boxers and carefully seated himself on the ledge that ran along the inner length of the tub, finding it to be deep enough that the rim of the bath met the top of his shoulders. As soon as his bum hit the seat, water began to fill the tub from large holes on the other side. As the water reached his toes, he found it to be at the exact temperature he preferred, warm, but not _too _warm. He relaxed against the seat, which had originally been hard, straight, unyielding stone, but now seem soft somehow, and moulded into his body.

He sighed in contentment, his hand reaching the knob that resembled a coconut, and once he turned it, a thick stream of soap came out, quickly filling the tub with large white bubbles. Sure enough, it smelled of coconuts.

The water shut off when it reached the middle of his chest, so Harry turned the knob of a tap that resembled a mint leaf, but only slightly, so he could use some soap to wash his body and hair. He made a mental note to get his shampoo and body wash out of his trunk later.

Once he was cleaned of the dried sweat from the night before, he dried off with a soft, black towel by the tub, and looked at himself in the mirror. Only the top half of him showed, naked, and with extremely messy, damp hair.

"Goodness me!" The mirror cried at him, and Harry had the good graces to not jump in sudden shock. "You'd best head straight down to the kitchens, boy, or there'll soon be nothing left of you to stand in front of a mirror at all! Maybe a nice hairbrush too, couldn't hurt, you know..."

Harry blinked at his reflection, taking in his too thin frame. It wasn't _that_ bad, but his ribs were slightly visible from under pale skin. His arms were too thin, and his waist dented in farther than it should of, but none of it looked _bad _necessarily, just...a bit starved. He sighed, and ran his hands through his hair, attempting to flatten the damp locks.

"That's not going to work, dearie."

Harry glared at the mirror, and left the bathroom. Flipping open his trunk, he rummaged through his clothes for a clean outfit, and some boxers. He laid them out on the bed and quickly got dressed, noticing that the far too baggy clothing hid the thinness of his body. '_Good, no questions.'__  
_  
Just as he was tucking his wand into his jeans pocket, there was a loud _crack!_ directly behind him, and he turned, surprised, wand raised. Standing there was an ugly little House Elf with drooping ears and a squashed in, turned up nose. "Hello!" He said, perplexed.

The ugly elf gave a bow. "I is Emmert, sir, I is being the Head Elf at Snape Manor, sir."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Er--...Right...Er--Nice to meet you?"

Emmert bowed again. "Master Harry Potter sir is very gracious, sir. I is told to take you down to breakfast by Master Snape." The elf eyed him warily for a moment, large eyes narrowing. "If...If sir will please change out of his...lounge clothes...and into his proper daily attire, I is showing you to the Dining Hall."

Harry raised his eyebrows, then looked down at himself, in his loose blue t-shirt, and faded blue jeans hanging off his hips. He looked back at the Elf, a bit offended. "This _is_ my 'daily attire'. It's all I got, unless you want me to come down in pyjamas."

Emmert stared at the young Master has though he had two heads. Harry could have sworn that he heard him vaguely whisper something along the lines of _'Why is the Master Snape inviting such improper guests to the Manor...' _and Harry was rather rudely reminded of Kreacher, and had to restrain him self from yelling at the House Elf.

Emmert cleared his little throat. "Then Master is coming with me." He gave a stout little nod and promptly stood up on his toes to open the door into the hall, and walked away, not bothering to see if Harry was following.

Harry, scowling, followed the little Elf out the door.

* * *

Harry followed Emmert into the Dining Hall, an extravagant room with a high ceiling, and a long, ebony table with matching chairs. He sat down awkwardly at one of the heads of the table, where Emmert instructed him to sit, and looked uncomfortably at the array of different utensils. He turned to Emmert. "Where's Professor Snape?"

The Elf was walking away, and did not even bother to turn around when he answered. "Master Snape will not be joining you this morning. He is in the Library if you need his assistance." And the elf disappeared through a door at the far end on the Hall, presumably leading to the kitchen.

Harry looked down at his plate, utterly confused as to what he was supposed to do now, as there was no food anywhere to be seen. Just as he was prepared to head into the kitchen himself, the door banged open, and a strange looking House Elf ran over to his side, panting. Harry stared at it, noticing what appeared to be splotchy red birthmarks all over her greenish skin.

The Elf beamed at him. "I is Salsa, Master Harry Potter! I is the Head Chef! What are you wanting for breakfast today, sir?"

Harry smiled down at her, liking her already. "Uhmm...I guess I'd like some blueberry pancakes and some chocolate milk, if that's alright?"

Salsa nodded quickly. "Of course sir! Anything sir wants!" And she took off hurriedly towards the kitchen once more.

Harry sighed and gazed outside the large picture window across from him, and immediately noticed something that caught his attention.

Outside the window, in the distance, was what appeared to be the entrance to a vast garden...It's gateway made up of two large trees with golden leaves. Harry gasped, recognizing those trees from his dream, and wondering, if maybe that fountain was deep inside that garden somewhere.

He decided to go check it out...Immediately after breakfast.


	6. Chapter 6

AN:

Sorry, this is just an AN. Is that even still allowed? It should be.

This fic has been on a long hiatus, but that has come to an end (woohoo!).

I am in the process of revamping the five existing chapters (nothing too major, mostly just descriptions, text, and dialogue) and will post them as well as further chapters hopefully by a weekly basis, on my LJ account, and this as well if I get around to it.

The account is: osthrys

Same as here! :)

Feel free to friend me, and I hope to see you there!

Much love,

Osthrys


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